


A Night Out

by Dragestil



Series: Lightning in the City [3]
Category: The Yogscast
Genre: DFaB Strife, M/M, Trans Male Character, Urban Magic Yogs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 12:22:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4787117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragestil/pseuds/Dragestil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Strife was utterly unprepared for what followed when Kirin called him over to fix a broken spreadsheet. Would he finally get answers to the questions that had been lingering in his mind for months?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Night Out

Following the storm, their relationship became tidal, ebbing and flowing as they orbited each other in a calculated dance. They left much unspoken, focusing only on Strife’s training and all of Kirin’s various side projects that require the technomancer’s help. They grew closer, though, two black holes seeking to consume each other. Strife tried not to see the sidhe’s eyes lingering on him or to notice the radiant warmth when Kirin leaned over him to check on his work. He tried not to think about things that couldn’t be there.

“Strife!”

“Yes, Kirin?”

“The checkbook is broken.”

“Again?”

Strife sighed. For a while, he had tried teaching Kirin how to manage his own finances. When that led to a furious call from the bank, he banned the sidhe from touching the spreadsheet at all and said he’d do it himself. Trust a fae not to keep their hands out of trouble, he supposed.

“Move,” the technomancer said, shooing the man from his chair. “I thought I told you not to even _look_ at this.”

“I was bored.”

“So you decided to create work for me? Thanks, you’re always so thoughtful.”

Strife cracked his knuckles as he looked at the spreadsheet, prepared for the worst. Every cell was blank, and he furrowed his brows, glancing back at the grinning sidhe. Scrolling down revealed more empty spaces and made the technomancer glad he had just backed everything up the previous day.

“I’ll import the-” he stopped himself abruptly.

Hundreds of lines down, several cells had been merged to fit a message. ‘ _Dinner out tonight?_ ’ the spreadsheet innocuously asked. Strife became hyper aware of Kirin’s hand on his shoulder, of Kirin’s thumb brushing against the base of his neck. The familiar technologic hum of his laptop was drowned out by waves of static that radiated off his body, making his hair stand on end.

“Is that a yes or…?”

“Did you delete your entire checkbook to ask me out to dinner?” Strife asked, working hard to keep his voice from cracking.

“If I say no will you be more keen to say yes?”

“Kirin.”

“Fine; yes, I deleted the checkbook, but _that_ part was an accident.”

“You _accidentally_ erased months of records?”

“I was _bored_.”

“Making you input every entry for the past six months would certainly cure that boredom,” Strife grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose and trying to ignore the lingering presence of Kirin’s hand.

“Or you could go out to dinner with me. That wouldn’t be boring for either of us.”

“Only if you swear not to touch the spreadsheets again. Because if you pull this stunt again, you absolutely will be entering every cell’s value by hand. No magic.”

“Excellent! Our reservations are for seven. Dress nicely,” Kirin said before bounding away. His childish excitement almost made Strife forget that this was a sidhe lord - both revered and reviled - that he was dealing with. “We’ll leave as soon as you’re ready!”

Strife nodded to the now empty room and finished restoring the spreadsheet before shutting down the laptop and heading to his room. Kirin had left a neatly wrapped box on the technomancer’s bed. The gift tag read ‘ _For a special occasion_ ’ and was signed with a forked scorch mark. He opened it as if it would explode. It didn’t though, and inside he found a new outfit. He took the whole box with him to the bathroom, setting it on the toilet lid while he stared into the mirror.

Alone with his reflection for the first time in what felt like an eternity, he took a moment to appraise himself. His jaw seemed sturdier, and his cheeks had lost some of their roundness. There was a growing knot in his throat that protruded when he swallowed. A dusting of coarse fuzz had appeared on his chin as well, though he carefully shaved everywhere he hoped to one day have a beard. He took a deep breath that was only slightly impeded by the two tight sports bras he wore. He didn’t complain about them. After all, he felt lucky that they were enough for now to mask the rise in his chest.

“Are you ready yet?” Kirin called from somewhere else in the house.

“Hold on! I’ll tell you when I’m done!” Strife replied, really listening to his voice - so much deeper than he could have imagined - as he watched his reflection speak.

He turned away from the mirror before he started to undress. Despite all of the changes, there were some things he still wasn’t ready to face. He slipped on the crisp, crimson button-up without looking down. He tried not to notice the slight swell that he was certain everyone would notice. He added a black tie and vest to the outfit before putting on the pants.

They were slim, and he was secretly pleased with the way they disguised his hips. He made a mental note to ask Kirin where they came from, if only because finding pants that fit this well off the rack from the men’s department was nearly impossible. When he was fully dressed, he looked back at himself.

“If my parents could see me now,” he murmured, laughing though it hurts. He flicked off the light as he opened the door. “Alright, Kirin, we can go.”

The sidhe was waiting in the hall just outside the bathroom. He pushed off from the wall he had been leaning on with a smile, gazing approvingly at Strife’s new attire. The technomancer glanced at his feet, suddenly self-conscious (or more so than usual).

“You look good in red.”

“You didn’t have to buy me this.”

“I don’t _have_ to do anything, my dear Will. But I most certainly _wanted_ to. Besides, you needed formalwear.”

“Shouldn’t we be going?” Strife said, giving up the argument before it really began.

“Of course. You’re going to love dinner.”

Kirin didn’t wait for a response, instead lightly taking Strife’s hand and leading him out of the house. A slick, black car with tinted windows was waiting for them, and the sidhe ushered the technomancer in before sliding in beside him. Strife’s fingers idly drew patterns in the leather seat as they raced through the city. The electronic noise outside soon grew unfamiliar and then distant before fading altogether. Wherever they were, he was certain he had never been there before. As Kirin let him out of the stopped car, it was confirmed. A lone building sat in a foggy heath. Will-o’-the-wisps lit a stone path leading from the car to the entrance.

“Where are we?” Strife whispered, grabbing Kirin’s hand without thinking as an anchor point to ground and protect him.

“Relax,” Kirin purred, voice like silk, “you’ll be fine. It’s the full moon, though, and I thought it about time I introduced you to fae society.”

“Fae society? Kirin, I really don’t think-”

“Correction, Strife, you think too much. Now come along, we’ve got reservations to keep.”

The technomancer whined slightly but followed the tug of Kirin’s hand in his. The path branched into several as they approached the restaurant, and Strife realised there were actually multiple entrances. The one they walked toward was ornate and towering - much like Kirin, who Strife noticed was wearing his formal robes. Before they even reached for it, the door opened before them and a charming young host beckoned them inside.

“Lord Kirin,” he said with a bow and effusive smile, “it is always a pleasure to welcome your presence. And this must be y-”

“Now, now, this is not the time for such flattery. After all, we must eat before the moon sets,” Kirin interjected with a laugh just bordering on threatening. He wouldn’t have some fooling young fae spoiling things. “Is our table prepared?”

“Of course, this way.”

The host reined himself in, picking up to menus and leading the sidhe and technomancer to a small booth in the corner of the restaurant. Many eyes watched them, and Strife heard more than a few murmurs pass around the tables. He had seen some of the faces before seeking Kirin’s council, but they were all still strangers to him. The air hummed with their magic.

“Please enjoy your meal,” the young fae said, motioning to their table before taking his leave.

Kirin waited for Strife to scoot into the booth before sidling in next to him and allowing their shoulders to brush.

“You know if you continue to hold my hand this tightly, my fingers might well fall off,” he breathed, head bent down low to whisper in Strife’s ear. “I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

Strife flushed the colour of his shirt and released the sidhe’s hand, quickly grabbing his menu and intently studying its contents to hide his blushing cheeks. His red ears remained visible, though, and Kirin chuckled gently. Sometimes he forgot how fun it could be to play with mortals. The other fae in the restaurant have gone back to their meals however, leaving Strife alone with his embarrassment and its cause.

“So, uh, what’s good to eat here?”

“How adventurous are you?”

“I live with a sidhe lord. How much more adventurous could I get?” Strife answered. “But I would like to survive this dinner, so preferably something that doesn’t kill me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Kirin said, usual jesting replaced by an unusually concerned tone. Strife assumed it must be because murdering your guest at dinner was considered unsightly in fae culture.

When the waiter came, the technomancer allowed Kirin to order for both of them. He didn’t know what at least half of the things on the menu were and felt too foolish to ask outright. He figured that it all must be good based on the scents that filled the room. He tried to stay focused on his companion though, and the way every time the technomancer shifted, the sidhe did as well, keeping at least one part of them in contact at all times.

In their home, Strife always brushed it off as the close quarters and Kirin being less aware of imposing upon the smaller man’s space. Here in a public place, however, it was very clearly a deliberate act. Whenever Will caught eyes on them, he felt Kirin edge that much closer. He expected the sidhe to move away when their food came, but he didn’t.

“Kirin, I-”

“Is something wrong?” Kirin asked, playing the attentive and doting dinner date with almost scary accuracy.

“No, I just, I can’t really eat with you this close. I can barely move my arm at all.”

Kirin’s face smoothed and his tension vanished. He grabbed a fork and picked up a bite of Strife’s meal with it. He wore a smile that made the technomancer’s cheeks redden and his eyes dart downward.

“I can help with that.”

“Kirin, people are watching.”

“Oh I am very aware of that, little Strife. I want them to watch. Now open up, and have a taste of your dinner.”

“Not until you tell me what’s going on here,” Strife said, folding his arms across his chest and staring at Kirin. His bashfulness has been thoroughly replaced at last with a demand for the answers that always seemed to elude him.

“Always business with you,” Kirin sighed as he set the fork down. “I should have expected as much.”

“So will you tell me?”

“First I need to know your opinion of me.”  
“Why?”

“Because I must. Will you give it, or do you not wish to learn why you are here?”

Strife chewed on his lip and fiddled with the hem of the tablecloth. He hadn’t been prepared for this question to arise so suddenly or in such a public space. Of course it had been on his mind of late, especially since the incident in the kitchen. He glanced quickly up at Kirin and then away again as he tried to muddle through his thoughts.

“I don’t trust you. You’re a sidhe lord, and I’m just a mortal. But you have proven to be a man of your word. I wouldn’t be nearly as skilled as I am if not for your instruction. You’re dangerous as well. I’ve seen what happens to people who cross you and your court. But you’ve taken care of me, and I have to be grateful for that. I,” Strife paused, licking his lips, “I’ve grown to admire you greatly. I enjoy spending time with you, even if it means cleaning up all of the messes you leave in your wake.”

Kirin smiled, and the technomancer for all his searching could only find benevolence in the expression. The sidhe’s strong hand settled on Strife’s beneath the table. It was warm and felt like safety.

“You know that I have been lord for many, many ages. But what you do not know is the oddity of my place. Look around this room; tell me what you see,” Kirin said.

“I see fae.”

“Obviously, Wiliam, but look at the tables individually.”

“Well...no one is eating alone that I can see.”

“Correct.”

“What’s so strange about that?”

“Do you think I never ate out before tonight, with you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous! You could have gone with...”

“With whom? When fae dine, they do so with their closest company. Who else can you trust around your food, that which gives you sustenance?”

“What are you saying?” Strife asked, though he was beginning to catch on as is heart rate picked up.

“I knew you could bring me power when you showed up at my doorstep. I did not, however, know I would grow so fond of you.”

“The host, he almost called me something, but you stopped him. Did he know something I don’t?”

“He knows nothing, but he suspected, like everyone else in this restaurant does I am sure. I have, after all, worked hard on putting forth a certain appearance.”

“Kirin, for once in your eternal life would you give me a complete answer?”

“Would you do something for me?”

“What?”

Kirin leaned his head down and turned so that none of the curious gazes from other patrons could catch his face. He pressed his lips close to Strife’s ear.

“Be my consort.”


End file.
